


Trigger Discipline

by totalizzyness



Series: 00Q Prompts [32]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Gunplay, M/M, PWP, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 22:09:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totalizzyness/pseuds/totalizzyness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>In which Q is unexpectedly kinky.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trigger Discipline

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if any of the terminology is off. I’m no expert in firearms.

Q had been surprised when he’d found out how vanilla Bond really was. He was James Bond, the Casanova of MI-6; he’d been everywhere and done everything. Or so the tales said. But that was all they were. Stories.

One evening, after what could only be described as as damn good shag, Bond had told Q about the rumours surrounding him, and explained which ones were just rumours. Q had expected more, he’d thought Bond would have an even remotely kinky side to him. But no.

Q was disappointed.

He’d been excited when his and Bond’s relationship had started, he’d thought Bond would be someone able to keep up with him sexually.

He was determined to not let Bond’s vanilla approach to sex hold them back.

—

Q knew what he wanted, and he was resolute in getting it. He’d experimented before with previous lovers, but none of them were prepared to go to the lengths Q wanted. He knew, or at least hoped, Bond would be game. Bond had a high level of self control, Q knew he could trust Bond with his life. He intended to.

Q was waiting, lounging on the bed when Bond arrived home, passing a model 10 Smith and Wesson between his hands. Bond stopped abruptly in the doorway of the bedroom when he saw his lover; sprawled over the pillows, bare footed in just his trousers and white shirt, the top few buttons undone. Bond wanted to dive onto the bed and have his way with him, but he was confused by the revolver.

Q glanced up, eyeing Bond over the top of his glasses. “Evening, James.”

“Q… Are you okay?”

Q smirked. “I’m fine. Are you going to linger in the doorway all night?”

Bond chuckled, slipping his jacket off and tossing it onto the armchair in the corner of the room. Q watched eagerly as Bond pulled off his tie, shoes, and socks, before crawling onto the bed over Q’s legs. He stopped when Q pointed the gun at him, slowly cocking back the hammer.

“Q…?”

“Don’t worry, it’s not loaded. Perfectly safe.”

“Did your daddy not teach you it’s rude to point guns at people?”

Q laughed, aiming the gun at the ceiling and pulling the trigger, the hammer clicking back into place.  He unclipped the cylinder and reached over to the bedside table for the box of bullets Bond hadn’t noticed, pulling out five.

“Q. What are you doing?”

Q shrugged, slipping the bullets into the chambers, purposely leaving one empty. Bond shuffled closer to Q, slipping the gun from his hands.

“Did I agree to some kind of suicide pact?”

“No… This is… something I want from you.”

Bond frowned, clipping the cylinder back into place. “You want me to shoot you?”

“Not quite.” He reached forward, grabbing the front of Bond’s shirt and dragged him into a heated kiss, Bond responding immediately, dropping the gun onto the bed beside them. Q hummed happily, flopping backwards, pulling Bond with him. Hands began pulling at clothing, Q’s shirt was ripped open, several buttons flinging to the far side of the room. He moaned, arching up as Bond’s rough hands stroked over his chest and sides, nails just biting into the skin.

Q hurried to get Bond out of the rest of his clothes, allowing himself to be roughly yanked from his own clothing until they were rutting together, mouths pressed together as they panted heavily. Bond pulled away and reached over to the bedside table, pulling open the top drawer and grabbing at the contents, quickly grabbing a couple of pillows, placing them under Q’s hips.

He didn’t spend long working Q open, knowing his lover preferred things a little rough, but made sure to pay special attention to the certain bundle of nerves until Q was a quivering wreck. He reached for the condom, quickly tearing the packet open and rolled it on. He went to position himself over Q when he was stopped with a gentle hand on the chest. Q peered at him innocently, sitting up slightly.

“I love you.”

Bond narrowed his eyes. “I love you too.”

“I trust you, y’know. With my life.”

“Okay? … Does this have to do with the revolver?”

“I want you to. I trust you.”

Bond frowned, plucking the gun from where it had tangled in the sheets. “You… want me to hold it to your head?”

“Please.”

“Finger on the trigger?”

“Hammer cocked back.”

“But what if I-“

“You won’t… it’s an exercise in self restraint, James. I know you’re capable of not blowing my valuable brains across the pillows.”

“This is a very heavy thing to spring on a man, Q.”

Q smirked, lying back down over the pillows. “I’m sure you can deal with it. Please.”

Bond nodded reluctantly and put the revolver down on the pillow beside Q’s head as he crawled on top of his lover, positioning himself at his entrance. “I had no idea you were so kinky,” he grunted, slowly pushing in. Q moaned loudly, his back arching.

“You… have no idea how kinky I can really be… just you wait.”

Bond chuckled, pressing a litter of kisses across Q’s temple and forehead. “Are you ready then?”

Q nodded, reaching up to blindly grab at the gun, finally getting his fingers in the correct position, pressing the barrel against a pillow, cocking back the hammer and pulling the trigger. Nothing happened, the empty chamber rotated away, putting a bullet in front of the hammer. Q pressed the gun into Bond’s hand, positioning it under his throat, aiming it up to his skull.

Bond took a deep breath, curling his finger around trigger, cocking back the hammer with his thumb. He raised his eyebrows at Q, silently questioning if he was ready. Q’s eyes fluttered closed as he nodded, baring his throat submissively.

Q let out a low groan when Bond began to move inside him, his free hand pushing his leg up until his knee was pressed against his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, tingles thrumming through his nerves when he registered the cold press of the barrel of the gun pressed against his throat. He tried to remember to breath, but he was too worked up.

Bond thrust into him roughly, knowing his grip on Q’s thigh would probably bruise, concentrating on not getting too lost in the moment in case he squeezed the trigger. Q made criminal noises beneath him, his hands clutching at Bond’s arms, his blunt nails scraping down, leaving faint red tracks on his tanned skin. His hand flew to the hand Bond was holding the revolver with, squeezing his wrist.

“James. Please.”

Bond pressed the gun harder against Q’s throat, relishing the moan that rumbled from his lover. He leant down, catching Q’s lips with his, groaning into his mouth. He sped up his thrusts even more, knowing he was close, eager to finish at the same time as Q.

Q began reaching for him, threading his fingers through his hair, pulling at the cropped hair as much as he could. Bond groaned loudly, feeling his finger tighten around the trigger. He quickly jerked away, aiming the gun away from Q as he came, his finger squeezing, firing a bullet into the wall. He felt, rather than heard, Q come, the smaller man convulsing beneath him, digging his nails into Bond’s biceps.

Bond opened his eyes when realised they were shut, pushing himself up on his elbows, looking down at Q. Q’s eyes cracked open, a sheepish smile spreading across his face. Bond chuckled, looking to the gun hanging from his loose fingers; he shook it from his fingers and rolled to Q’s side, gathering him in his arms.

“Fuck, Q. That was…”

“Exhilarating? Fantastic?”

“Yes. To all… I don’t think the neighbours would be too pleased if we continued this… endeavour.”

Q shrugged, snuggling up to Bond, burying his face in his neck. “Fuck ‘em… But don’t worry, I have many more kinks that need exploring.”

Bond smirked, pressing as chaste kiss to Q’s forehead. “Do they involve guns?”

“Not all of them.”


End file.
